


The One With the Five Things

by LokiOfSassgaard



Category: Friends (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-04
Updated: 2010-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-28 01:43:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6309400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokiOfSassgaard/pseuds/LokiOfSassgaard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or, Five Inconsistencies/Contradictions that were Never Properly Addressed by the Writers</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One With the Five Things

September 1990  
"Ya know," Chandler said as he packed up his side of the dorm room. "When I took summer classes, it never occurred to me that not going home for the summer just meant I'd have to go home a year early."

Ross looked up from his own packing. "Really?" he asked. "You mean, you didn't do it so you could get into grad school quicker?"

They'd both gotten over their Miami Vice phase, and even survived a particularly embarrassing punk rock phase. Now, they were just two skinny guys with goatees and brutally short hair.

"You kidding?" Chandler asked. "I am so done with this. Now I get to go home and listen to my mom tell me how I picked the wrong major and how I'll never be able to do anything with it."

"You majored in art history," Ross pointed out. "What on earth are you going to do with that?"

"Because you dared me to! And you majored in palaeontology," Chandler pointed out. "What on earth are you going to do with that?"

"Because you dared me to!" Ross said. He had no intention of telling Chandler that he'd been considering it for his major long before he had been dared him into it, though. "Hey, listen, though. If you really don't want to go back to your mom's, I know a guy just down the road whose roommate just bailed on him."

"Doesn't your sister live just down the road?" Chandler asked sceptically.

"Yeah. He's... kind of her neighbour," Ross admitted to the ground. "In fact, that's how I know him."

Chandler snorted. "Live next to your crazy sister," he said. "Right."

"At least talk to the guy," Ross insisted, getting up to fetch the packing tape. "He works for this big company doing... something with numbers. I bet he could even get you a good job."

Chandler shrugged. "Yeah, all right."  
* * *  
The apartment was bigger than h e'd expected. Maybe it was just sharing the same small dorm room with Ross for the last three years, but the idea of having his own bedroom was tempting. True, he had his own bedroom at his mother's house, but ever since he was 12, it never really felt like his room. It was just the place he stayed when school wasn't in session.

And this Kip guy – besides being Monica Geller's neighbour, he seemed pretty all right. There was certainly no impending sense of doom about him, and Chandler was pretty sure that he wasn't going to start throwing sharp objects in his direction.

"So, Ross says you're just out of college?" Kip asked as Chandler looked around the small kitchen. "You gonna be able to afford your share?"

"Yeah," Chandler said. He felt a little uneasy about dipping into the savings account his parents had set up for him, but this was the sort of thing it was for, wasn't it? "And hey, he said that you might be able to get me a job where you wo rk?"

"If you don't mind cube farm work, sure," Kip said. "They're only hiring temps right now, but I can put in a good word for you."

Chandler nodded. "Cool."  
* * *  
They didn't have any furniture in the apartment yet, but Ross didn't mind. It was his first place, and he was sharing it with Carol. He could improvise. He found some old candles stuffed in a kitchen drawer, and put them into some empty beer bottles, setting up a candle-lit picnic of takeaway Chinese in the empty living room.

He was sitting on the floor when Carol came in, watching excitedly for her reaction.

"Oh, my god, Ross," she said, slowly shutting the door behind her. "What's all this?"

He picked up a pair of chopsticks and offered them up to her. "This is fried rice, and egg rolls, and some chow mien, and some really hot miso soup. Be careful with it."

"I wasn't expecting a candle lit dinner tonight," Carol sa id as she sat across the spread from Ross.

"Well, I wasn't expecting it either," he admitted, "but there was some confusion with the power company, and they're not going to turn us on until tomorrow."

"I think we can handle this for one night," Carol said softly.

"You sure you don't mind doing this?" Ross asked. "This... cohabiting situation, that is. I could have stayed on campus through grad school."

Carol looked up at him, her smile soft and warm under the candle light. "I think I'd rather have you here with me," she said. "You're going to be busy, so I'd like to have you every second you're available."  
* * *  
Moving in was easy. He only had a few boxes of assorted trinkets and a garbage bag full of clothes. The bedroom that he was moving into already had a bed and everything, courtesy of the last guy that just up and left. As Chandler hefted his boxes into #19, the door behind him ope ned, and a breezy-looking blonde stepped out into the hall.

"Oh, hello," she said, surprised to find someone outside.

Chandler turned at the voice. "Oh, hi," he said.

"Oh, you must be Chester!" the blonde said. "I'm Phoebe."

Chandler put down his box and extended his hand. "Uh, it's Chandler, actually. Chandler Bing."

Phoebe took his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Chandler Bing." She made a very obvious show of checking him out. "Would you like to take a short break? Maybe come in for some lemonade?"

"Oh, uhm... okay," he said. He slid the box into his new apartment and shut the door, following Phoebe inside #20. This apartment was much more open than his. And purple. He wondered whose decision the paint had been. "So, how long have you been here?" he asked.

"Only a few months," Phoebe asked, stepping up close behind him. "It's actually my roommate's place. I just answered an ad in the paper."

Chandler turned around, surprised to find Phoebe so close. Before he could react, she pulled him into a kiss, from which he quickly pulled away.

"Woah, what happened to lemonade?" he asked, confused.

"Oh, you thought I meant actual lemonade?" Phoebe asked. "No, what I really meant was sex."

Chandler took a moment to think about this. "Oh," he said after a few moments. He wasn't sure why he was fighting this, actually. "Okay."

As he stepped closer to Phoebe, the door opened again, startling both of them.

"Oh, is Kip's new roommate moving in today?" Monica asked as she put her handbag down on the table.

Chandler glared at her from across the room. It took a few moments for Monica to notice him, but when she did, she froze completely.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

Phoebe stepped forward slightly. "I just offered him some—"

"I was just leaving," Chandler cut her off. He walked stiffly past both girls, and went to finish his unpacking.

"What wa s that?" Phoebe asked, laughing slightly.

Monica cringed. "You remember that friend of Ross' I told you about?" she asked.

Phoebe considered this. "The one that called you fat, or the one that backed into you with his car?" she asked.

"The one that called me fat," Monica said flatly. "I think he's Kip's new roommate."

"Oh," Phoebe said grimly. "What, do you wanna go trash his stuff, then?"  
May 1991  
Chandler tapped lightly on the door before pushing it open and peeking inside.

"She's not home, Chandler," Phoebe called from the sofa. "You can come in."

Chandler did just that, quietly making his way to the refrigerator to find something to drink, Kip's habit becoming Chandler's habit.

"So, what is the deal with you two, anyway?" Phoebe asked, too involved with gluing things to her shoes to get up.

Chandler found a bottle of Yoo-hoo in the back and took it. "What do you mean?" he a sked, tossing the cap into the sink.

"You and Monica," Phoebe clarified. "You both get all murky when you're around one another." She finally looked up at him. "Oh, look. You're murky now, just thinking about her."

Sighing, Chandler made his way over to the sofa and sat down next to her. "Ross and I went to college together," he explained. "I don't know why, but Monica's hated me ever since."

Phoebe started cleansing his aura. "Mmm, nuh-uh," she said. "I already knew that. There's more that you two aren't telling me."

He resisted the urge to slap her hands away, resigned to letting her pick at the air around him. "There's nothing to tell," he insisted.

"All right," Phoebe said as she slid down to the floor. "Gimme your feet."

Chandler gave her a withering look before kicking off his shoes. They sat in silence as she squeezed parts of his left foot, making small noises of frustration. When she took his right foot in her hands, she noticed h im tense ever so slightly. She knew that there was something more, and it didn't take her long at all to find it.

"Oh, my god! What happened to you?" she asked, shocked.

Chandler pulled his feet away. "Monica happened," he confessed.

"Why would she do that?" Phoebe asked, moving back up to the sofa.

Chandler only shrugged, and drank more of his Yoo-hoo. He'd never bothered finding out, and insisted on going to his mom's house when he'd been let out of the hospital the next morning. As far as he was concerned, that was the last time he'd ever see Monica Geller. Now that they were neighbours, his plan was to avoid her as much as possible, while taking as much of her food as possible.  
* * *  
Phoebe rushed into the coffee house, making a like straight to where Ross sat on the sofa.

"Oh, my god. Ross," she said as she sat down. "Did you know that your sister cut off Chandler's toe?"

Ross nodded sullenly. "Yeah," he said. "I was there when it happened."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Phoebe demanded. "You know I like to hear these kinds of stories."

"Chandler's really embarrassed by it," Ross said with a light shrug. "It's not really something he likes to have discussed."

Phoebe scoffed. "Yeah, I could imagine. She disfigured him for life."

Ross turned sharply to face Phoebe directly. "Hey, come on. It was an accident," he defended.

"That's not the way Chandler sees it." Phoebe reached for Ross' coffee and drank some.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Chandler thinks it was on purpose," Phoebe explained as she handed his coffee back to him. "That's why he refuses to be in the same room as her."

"But it was an accident," Ross insisted.

"Okay, Ross, are you just gonna sit here defending your sister all night, or are you going to actually listen to what I'm saying?"  
June 1991  
Monica knocked on the door for #19, a large paper shopping bag in her hand. For a moment, she feared that no one was home, and nearly stopped breathing when Chandler opened the door.

"He's not here," he said simply before shutting it again and locking it with the chain.

"No, Chandler!" Monica called, knocking again. "I came to talk to you!"

The door opened again, and Chandler looked out through the small crack at her. "Why?"

"Because I—I wanted to apologise," she managed. "I realise I didn't get the chance to actually do it at Thanksgiving."

Chandler stared at her for a few seconds, as though trying to decide if there was some sort of ulterior motive. Finally, he shut the door and unfastened the chain so Monica could come in.

"Isn't graduation today?" she asked, stepping into the kitchen. "Ross has been talking about it all week."

"Not going," Chandler said simply, walking around to the other side of the counter. "I technically already got everything I need to prove I finished. Seems stupid to go to a ceremony when I finished last fall."

"Yeah, I guess," Monica said. She didn't agree with his logic, but wasn't sure what else to say. "But, listen, I do really want to apologise. I am sorry. I didn't know that's what you were still mad at."

"Well, I never figured out why you did it in the first place, so I guess we're even," Chandler said. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a date when the whole school is calling you Sir Limps A Lot?"

"Sorry," Monica said quietly, not offering up any sort of explanation. She instead offered over the shopping bag. "I got you a sort of graduation gift, but since you're not going to your graduation, I guess it's just a gift."

Chandler looked down at the bag, but didn't look to see what was in it. "Why would you do that?" he asked, honestly confused.

Monica shrugged. "Well, you're my brother's best frie nd, and my boyfriend's roommate, and my neighbour," she said. "I felt like I should get you something."

"You didn't have to do that." Chandler hesitantly reached into the bag and pulled out a long, charcoal-coloured wool jacket. "It's summer. You really didn't have to do this."

"Try it on," Monica said. "I didn't know what size you are. I wanna see if it fits."

Chandler cocked an eyebrow before sliding the heavy coat on. Laughing slightly, Monica adjusted it on him.

"It's a little big," she admitted. "But you'll grow into it."

"I'm 23," Chandler pointed out. "I think I'm probably done with that." He took off the coat and set it on the counter before looking up at Monica. "But thank you. I... I appreciate it."

"So... you don't hate me anymore?" Monica dared, wringing her hands together in the hem of her shirt.

Chandler laughed slightly. "I always thought that you were the one that hated me."

"Well, you were kind of a jerk in college," she pointed out.

"And you were kind of a freak in high school," Chandler defended.

Monica flushed red and looked down at the floor. "But we're good?" she asked after a few moments.

"Yeah," Chandler said. "I think we're good."  
November 1991  
Ross trotted up the stairs and let himself into #20. Monica was busy with last-minute stuffing preparations in the kitchen, flying around at a mile a minute. Ross watched silently, while she made sure everything was just perfect.

"Mon, it's only stuffing," he pointed out after a few minutes.

"Yeah, I know," Monica said. "But it's the first time Mom's ever let me make anything for Thanksgiving, and I want to get it just right. Maybe next year she'll let me do the turkey."

Ross shook his head. "Okay," he said, doubtful.

He walked into the living room, where Chandler, Kip, and Phoebe sat on the sofa, watching the parade together.

"Here you go," he said, handing Chandler his shopping bag. "Got your Funyuns, tomato soup, and grilled cheese fixings."

"All right!" Chandler said excitedly, taking the bag.

"Woah, woah," Kip said, shooting his attention to his roommate. "You're not coming with?"

Chandler shook his head. "I don't celebrate Thanksgiving."

"Why not?" Phoebe asked, turning toward Chandler for an explanation.

"Okay, I'm nine years old," Chandler started, ignoring Ross as he walked away, groaning. "We're around the table, just finishing up dinner, and this is the moment my parents decide to tell me that they're getting a divorce."

"Rough," Kip said. "But you know, it's not Thanksgiving's fault."

Chandler shrugged. "Don't care," he said. "It's hard to enjoy Thanksgiving dinner once you've seen it in reverse."

Kip and Phoebe both groaned in disgust. After a loud clatter in the kitchen, Monica rushed over to the sofa.

"Okay, we've gotta go," she said, all but pulling Kip and Phoebe to their feet. "Chandler, you can stay here if you want. Just lock up when you go home."

She handed him a copy of her key before rushing off to the kitchen.

"Wow," Chandler said, watching the rest of them scramble to put on coats. "My very own key. I'll love it and treasure it for always."

Ross gave him a hard look. "Hey, this is my sister's apartment," he warned. "Having that key isn't a right; it's a privilege."

"Yes, Dad," Chandler said flatly. "And I'll be sure not to lose it."

"And—and Chandler," Monica said, picking up her bowl of stuffing. "If you use any dishes, please wash them and put them away, okay?"

"Yep," Chandler said, his attention already back on the television.

"And I don't mean just running them under hot water and putting them in the cupboard," Monica continued. "But really wash them."

"Yep," Chandler repeated. "I u se the steel wool, right?"

Before Monica could have a stroke, Ross led her out of the apartment. "He'll be fine," he insisted in the hallway.

"Yeah, but... steel wool?" Monica asked.

The four of them made their way down the stairs.

"I'm sure it was just a joke," Ross insisted. "Come on, Carol's waiting for us outside."  
April 1992  
Chandler let himself in to #20, making a line straight for the refrigerator. He was sure somebody was home, because the door was unlocked, but the apartment seemed empty. He took advantage of the lack of supervision, taking a beer and some left-over chicken to the small table. He bobbed his head to imaginary music in his head as he opened the beer and tossed the cap into the sink – something which he knew annoyed Monica to no end.

When the door flew open, he jumped in his seat, frantically trying to come up with a reason for raiding the fridge again. Monica didn't eve n seem to see him, instead rushing to her bedroom and slamming the door shut. A few moments later, her bedroom door opened again, and Monica peered out to the kitchen.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

Even from the distance, Chandler could see that she'd been crying. "Uhm," he said, getting up awkwardly. "I'm... here to see what's up with you!"

He rushed over to her, painfully aware that the last time they'd been in a room alone had been when she apologised the previous summer. While they'd gotten over the bitterness, there was still an awkward feeling that everything was being forced for the sake of formality.

"So... what's up?" He wasn't sure he really wanted to know.

"I can't talk to you about it," Monica sobbed as she leaned heavily against his chest.

He was about to ask why when he heard his own apartment door slam shut. Monica might not have said a word, but Chandler had a fairly clear idea about what had just happened.

"O kay," he said hesitantly. Not sure what else to do, he wrapped his arms round her shoulders. "Well, why don't we at least sit down? For once, we're the ones putting on a show for the naked guy."

Nodding, Monica let him lead her to the sofa. With her curled up against him, Chandler realised just how small she actually was. It took him a few moments to reconcile this with a small part of his brain that still saw her as Ross' formerly fat sister.

"So... we're not talking about it, then," he said awkwardly, trying to break the silence.

"I'm sorry, Chandler," Monica said, sitting up and wiping her face with the back of her hand. "I know you don't want to be here."

"Well, do you want to be alone?" Chandler asked, still not sure what had just happened.

"No," Monica admitted.

"Then I'll... stay here."

Not entirely comfortable with the situation, and not trusting himself not to shove his foot in his mouth, he reached for the remote and turned on the television, turning to the Spanish channel. Confused, Monica looked up to see what Chandler was watching.

"You watch this?" she asked, surprised.

"Sometimes, yeah," Chandler said.

"I didn't know you speak Spanish."

Chandler shook his head. "Oh, I don't. But I've been watching these shows for a while now, and I'm pretty sure that this chick's a robot from Mars, and this guy with the moustache is trying to help her assimilate into the human race."

Monica blinked up at him, positive that this was not actually the plot. "Oh, really?" she asked.

"Sure," Chandler insisted.

The couple he'd described were outside at some park, and the girl had some sort of fruity beverage in her hand. As they argued, Chandler superimposed the voices for Monica.

"No, I've told you a million times that you're doing it wrong, you crazy woman. We're going to try it again!"

The woman splashed her drink in the man's face an d stormed off.

"Better, but still wrong."

Even though she didn't want to, Monica laughed. "How'd you know that would happen?" she asked.

"I told you. I've been watching this show for a while."  
May 1992  
Kip and Ross stood around the pool table, not so much playing as they were just randomly hitting balls with the cues.

"Listen, man," Ross insisted. "You're my fried, and she's my sister. I'm not going to take anyone's side on this, all right?"

"I can't even look at her right now," Kip said honestly. "Let alone be in the same room as her."

"What the hell happened between you two?" Ross asked.

Kip looked up at him. "It's between the two of us," he said before finishing his drink.

"Okay," Ross said, willing to let it drop. "Then let's rack 'em up and play for real."  
August 1992  
Phoebe walked into #19, with a stack of pizz a boxes in her arms. "Where are my favourite boys at?" she asked loudly.

Chandler leaned over the back of the sofa to look at her. "Oh, Kip just stepped out," he said. "He should be back in about a half hour, or so."

"Oh, thank god," Phoebe said as she brought the pizzas over to the sofa. "I know we said we'd stay friends with both of them, but I don't think I can keep it up much longer. It's exhausting."

Chandler took a slice of pizza – cheese, naturally, since Phoebe had bought it. "Tell me about it," he said. "I thought it would be easy, because I live with Kip, and things have been so awkward with me and Monica for so long, but then she kept crying on me. That's like Kryptonite."

"Do you even know what happened between them?" Phoebe asked.

"No idea. No one's said anything to me."

"Okay, good," Phoebe said, relieved. "I was afraid that I was the last to know again."

Chandler cast her a sideways glance. "Aren't you supposed to be psychic or something?"

Phoebe waved her hands vaguely. "This much negativity in the air clouds my view."

"Sure," Chandler said as someone knocked on the door. He started to get up, but Phoebe beat him to it.

"I'll get it!" she called, rushing toward the door. She opened it, finding a dark-haired woman standing in the hall.

"Oh, you must be Monica," she said boredly.

"No, I'm Phoebe. Who're you?" Phoebe regarded her with cautious curiosity, stepping aside slightly so Chandler could watch from the sofa.

"I'm Tanya," the woman said. "Kip's fiancée. Anyway, give him this for me, would you? I'm late and gotta run." She gave Phoebe an envelope.

Phoebe and Chandler gaped at one another as Tanya walked away.

"That's why they broke up!" Chandler shouted as he bounded over the back of the sofa. "It has to be! What'd she give him? Open it up!"

"We can't open someone else's mail!" Phoebe said incredulously.

"It does n't have a stamp, and he was cheating on Monica!" Chandler pointed out. "Or cheating on Tanya with Monica. Either way, what are you waiting for, woman? Open it!"

Phoebe couldn't help but agree with this logic and opened the envelope, which had only been sealed with a bit of Scotch tape. Inside was a lease with red X's where he needed to sign, and several keys.

"Oh, my god, he's gonna bail on you!" Phoebe realised."You need a new roommate."

"Was he ever gonna tell me?" Chandler asked, horrified.

Phoebe scoffed. "Probably not. The dates have already all been filled in for today. He's as good as gone, Chandler Bing." She stuffed the lease and keys back into the envelope and threw it at the counter. "And hey! This time, we were the first to know!"  
November 1992  
He stood in the doorway, watching Joey laugh with a turkey on his head.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" Chandler asked flatly, wondering if he'd made the right decision about this one.

"I was trying to scare ya, man!" Joey insisted. "We're roomies now. That's what we do, right?"

Chandler turned to Monica. "So, do you still think he's hot?" he asked.

"Not so much," Monica said honestly. "You heard about that, huh?"

"Oh, it's all he's talked about since Monday," Chandler said as he walked into the apartment. "Well, that, and how cool it would be to be married to a lesbian."

"Yeah, baby!" Joey said from inside the turkey. "Hey, you guys, it's starting to get kind of hard to breathe in here."

"Mon, I'm sorry. You're not taking that turkey to your mother's after this." He and Phoebe exchanged a sympathetic glance.

"I know," Monica said sadly. "How do we get it off him?"

"Oh, I know this one!" Phoebe said excitedly. "No, wait, I don't. Never mind."

"I guess we just hold him down and cut it off piece by piece," Chandler suggested. "I think Kip left behind some of the precision-y little art knives that might work."

"No, here!" Joey said, reaching into his pocket, pulling out a spoon, a fork, a table knife, and a small steak knife in a leather sheath. He held them up toward where he thought everyone was standing. "Hurry!"

"Weirdest week of my life, living with this guy," Chandler muttered, taking the steak knife from Joey's hand. "Maybe I should have gone with the ferrets."  
August 1993  
Monica waited in the reception area, idly flipping through a magazine. It wasn't even a particularly good magazine, but she didn't expect much from a massage parlour. As she looked up to check the time, she was startled to see a familiar face – though not the one she was waiting for – at the counter.

"Oh, my god, Rachel?" Monica asked, tossing down the magazine. "Why didn't you tell me you were going to be in the City?"

Rachel turned round sharply. "Monica! " she shrieked, rushing over to her. "I'm just in the City for the day, and I thought I'd let my hair down and try one of these places. Do you do this often?"

Monica shook her head. "Oh, no, actually, I have a friend that works here," she said. "We're going out for lunch today. Do you want to come with?"

Rachel looked up at the clock above the desk. "Sure, I've got time," she said, pulling Monica toward the door. "Where are we going?"

Monica stopped, and pointed back in the other direction. "Well, uhm, we have to wait for Phoebe. She's just finishing up."

"Oh," Rachel said distantly. "Okay, that's fine. It'll be a girls' day out!"

"Actually," Monica corrected. "My brother Ross is going to be there. So is Chandler."

"Oh, well that's fine, too!" Rachel said. "It'll be fun! Is he your boyfriend?"

"Chandler? No. You remember what he's like, right?" Monica said.

"Oh, yeah. Of course," Rachel said distantly.  
Monica wasn't quite sure that they were on the same page, so she changed the subject. "Oh, hey, your wedding's coming up, isn't it?"

"Oh, no we had to postpone it," Rachel said. "Barry's office ran into some problems."

"Oh, god," Monica said, shocked. "What kind of problems?"

"Oh, I don't know. I don't pay attention when he talks about work," Rachel said, laughing. "That's his thing."

"Of course." She turned to see Phoebe walk through a door. "Oh, here's Phoebe. Phoebe, this is my friend, Rachel. We went to high school together."

"Hi!" Phoebe said lightly. She looked Rachel over quickly, before signing a few papers at the front desk. "Interesting."  
* * *  
They walked into a small diner, spotting the boys at a far table. Seeing Chandler, Rachel held out her hand.

"Hi, I'm Rachel Green," she said with a fake smile.

Chandler forced a painfully fake laugh. "We've met," he said, not trying to hide the annoyance in his voice. "Several times."

"Oh, have we?" Rachel asked.

"Yeah. Remember? I was in college at the time. You even came to one of the parties." Chandler cast a nervous glance to Ross. He found it rather wise to forget about the making out that happened at the party, and that he'd even hit on Rachel at the bar that was now a coffee house.

"Oh, right. Were you that guy from that algebra class?" Rachel asked.

"No, he was the guy that I'd bring with to Thanksgiving," Ross offered helpfully.

"Oh, right!" Rachel said fakely.

Chandler shook his head. "You still have no idea who I am, do you?"  
September 1994  
Ross stood against the wall, watching as all of Carol's things – which was nearly everything in the apartment – were taken away by the movers. Carol was there too, directing where everything needed to go, and how to handle those items which may possibly break. A fe w times, she'd cast a glance toward Ross, but would look away quickly.

"Miss," one of the movers said. "We're gonna take our break. We'll be down at the truck if you need anything."

Carol smiled sweetly at him and nodded. "Okay."

The man walked out of the apartment, leaving Ross and Carol alone.

"Ross, don't look at me like that. This is hard enough," Carol pleaded.

"What part?" Ross asked. "You've already been living with that Susan person for over a year. You don't actually need any of this stuff."

"Ross, please," Carol pleaded. "I'm already confused about this as it is. I don't need you acting like this on top of everything."

Ross perked up slightly. "Confused?" he asked. "About what?"

"No, I don't want to talk about it," Carol said, stepping away from him. "I told you."

"Carol, I'm still your husband for another twelve hours," Ross reasoned. "You can tell me anything."

Carol sighed deeply. "I just... I can't help thinking that maybe I am making the wrong decision. Maybe I've just been confused from the start?"

Ross rushed over to her. "What do you mean?" he asked hopefully.

"I just..." Before Carol could stop herself, she wrapped her arms round Ross' neck and kissed him.  
* * *  
They lay next to one another on the mattress on the ground, both with the duvet pulled up to their chin.

"So?" Ross asked hopefully.

"Yeah..." Carol said. "I'm definitely making the right decision in this."


End file.
